The Only One
by Yasmin Divine thing
Summary: Meet: One female ex-assassin , and one very sour potions master. Stir for one school year, leave to simmer and then indulge yourself. If you read and review mine, I promise to read and review yours!
1. Safe as Houses

Act 1  
  
Safe as Houses  
  
In which Dumbledore's Previous Actions regarding our Heroine are Detailed,  
A Spirit weeps and Harry ponders his Past.  
  
17 years ago  
  
"Corinna! Corinna, where are you hiding now?" asked the old woman, calling loudly over the noise of many different conversations. She looked under the tablecloth, then behind the settee, discovering a group of gossiping relatives wearing colourful paper hats. The party was going well so far, she thought, none of the family members and argued or fought yet, despite the large number of alliances and the backstabbing she knew took place between them daily. Everyone was too full to fight, just as she had planned.  
"I'm here, Umma!" cried a little girl behind her. The woman turned, and carefully scooped up her granddaughter into her arms.  
"My, you're getting too big for me! How old are you?" she asked playfully, pulling at the child's soft black curls, and adjusting the sparkling tiara.  
"I'm seven, you know I'm seven, cos it's my birthday today, and we're at my party, and we just had cake, and I had SEVEN candles, and I blew them all out, and I made a wish," she declared. Her grandmother smiled, and carried her through the crowd of people, stepping carefully over fallen balloons and the paper plates covered in crumbs, and into the quiet of the kitchen. She placed the girl on the counter and kissed her on the forehead. She turned away, rummaging in the drawer for the key to the back door.  
"And did you wish for what I told you?" the woman asked, trying to keep her voice light and cheerful. She'd seen the signs, and she knew she had to protect her family, especially this particular child. She couldn't risk exposure, not now. It was too dangerous.  
"Yes, I wished that a magical man would come tonight, and that he would have lots of sweets, and Auntie Jessie said I was much too young to be wishing for that, and that I should wish it for her instead, but I didn't, cos Uncle Roo said too many men visit her at night already, and- "  
"That's very good. And now, shall we go outside? There are many stars in the sky tonight for you to see." She picked her grandchild off of the counter, and held her small hand tightly as she opened the door, and walked out into the dark garden.  
Dumbledore was already there, waiting for them. He leaned against the fence, and smiled kindly at Corinna, slipping the child some jelly babies as her grandmother thanked him for coming.  
"I was afraid you wouldn't make it. I understand that you are very occupied right now with the Voldemort business," she whispered, not wanting the little girl who was busy gobbling sweets to hear this particular conversation.  
"I'm sorry to say I have been very busy. Things are not going well in the wizarding world, as you have no doubt gathered. Every day, the resistance weakens as its members die in battle." He observed the tears now visible in the old woman's eyes and changed his tone. "Are you sure you want me to do this? I do not know if it can be reversed."  
"Do it. I know of no better way to protect her and my family, and you know how dangerous this gift, this curse is. How many died on Sunday?"  
"Seven of the Bennett family. The eldest son escaped the attack. He was out of the country."  
"I knew the mother, many years ago. She was a good woman, and what for? The attacks are so close! Hardly five miles from here." She shivered despite the warmth of the night, and stood staring the night sky, as if she could read the stars. Dumbledore bent down to Corinna.  
"Hello," the child whispered, in awe of the long white beard. He unwrapped a lollipop and handed it to her. "Who are you?" "I," he paused dramatically, noting the intelligence in her eyes, "am your godfather." She stopped sucking the lolly, and thought about it.  
"No you're not. I don't have one." Dumbledore chided her.  
"Haven't you ever heard of a secret godfather? Doesn't your grandmother ever mention them?"  
"Nope. What's your name then? If you're my secret godfather, I should still know your name. If you have one, and it isn't a secret," the girl teased. Her tongue was beginning to turn blue. The wizard laughed.  
"Yes, I do have a name, and I don't believe that it is a secret, at least, not yet. Everyone calls me Albus Dumbledore, or 'that interfering old wizard'."  
"Really? Your name's Dumbledore? S'odd. What's it mean?"  
"I believe it is the Old English word for 'bumblebee', though I couldn't tell you how my family managed to acquire it as a surname."  
"Bumblebee's a much nicer name. You should say it's your real one, and wear yellow and black stripy clothes. Has my tongue turned blue yet?" she stuck her tongue out for inspection.  
"It has. Will you do something for me?" Corinna stared at him. He looked sad.  
"What?" she asked suspiciously.  
"Would you close your eyes?" She did, and immediately began to feel sleepy. She yawned. Bumblebee was saying something, and she couldn't understand it, but she didn't mind. She just wanted to sleep.  
Dumbledore caught her before she fell, and handed the child to her grandmother. The old woman looked tired, but happy.  
"Thank you," she said, rocking her grandchild in her arms. Dumbledore left via the gate, and apparated in the darkness.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Present day  
  
"Black! You worthless animagus, why don't you ever come when you're called for?"  
The scowling image of Phineas Nigellus floated through the picture frames of 12 Grimmauld Place, alternately taunting and calling for Sirius.  
"What kind of a half-witted dog are you? Black! Show yourself!" Nigellus, the first, last and only Slytherin to become Headmaster at Hogwarts refused to believe that Sirius Black, his descendent, was dead. He would not accept that the House of Black was finished, that it had ended on such a pitiful note. He tried again.  
"BLACK!"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry sat among the bushes at the front of his aunt's house on Privet Drive and tried to ignore Uncle Vernon, who was shouting at him through the window.  
"DON'T JUST SIT THERE MAKING THE GARDEN LOOK UNTIDY! WHAT WILL THE NEIGHBOURS THINK? GET IN HERE AND FINISH CLEANING DUDLEY'S ROOM AND WHEN YOU'RE DONE, YOU CAN BLOODY WELL DO THE DISHES TOO! DON'T THINK YOU'RE GETTING AWAY WITH DOING NOTHING AGAIN!"  
Harry picked off one of the flowers hanging above him and proceeded to pull it apart, wishing Sirius would suddenly apparate in front of him and tell Harry all about his amazing escape, that Padfoot would come bounding down the road and lick his nose so that Harry could pull a face and wipe off the drool, that some exotic bird would swoop down and drop a letter in Harry's lap that read:  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Don't worry, I'm fine. Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Ended up in the Far East and am bringing back cheap souvenirs for you all. Take care, and let me or Dumbledore know if anything strange happens over the summer.  
  
PS. Don't blame Dumbledore for what he told you. He believed it at the time.  
  
Love, Snuffles  
  
But Harry knew it wouldn't happen. It never did. For years his parents had failed to appear at the Dursley's door to take him home. Cedric hadn't miraculously started breathing at the end of the triwizard tournament, no matter how close Harry held the boy's body to his own. Sirius would never come back.  
Harry scattered the pieces of the flower at his feet, where it joined the growing pile. He picked off another of the flowers that hung above him.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 


	2. Passion is Fire, Passion is Burning Desi...

Wonderful, Wonderful People: LizSnape, BlueWater, J.S. Sumner, Pent-up- dragon and Arachne's Child.  
  
You all made my day! Thank you very much for reviewing. I am telepathically sending good vibes and magical wishes your way.  
  
J.S. Sumner: thanks for letting me know about the difficulty in reading due to the formatting; I've decided to leave lines between each speaker, and also new paragraphs. Tell me if it helps at all.  
  
This chapter took a surprisingly long time to write, due entirely to laziness on my part.  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Act 1  
  
Passion is Fire, Passion is Burning Desire:  
  
Where Snape receives a Summons and first encounters our Heroine. The Forests Burn to the Wizards' tune.  
  
Severus Snape,  
  
You are expected to attend a gathering of friends tonight at approx. midnight. Bring appropriate attire.  
  
Malfoy  
  
Snape checked the clock on the wall. It was nearing twelve, and he frowned, leaning back against the worn leather of his armchair. He read through the letter again, looking for the undertones that could reveal the purpose of the meeting. He could gauge only one fact: that Voldemort was not attending, otherwise he would already be in severe discomfort and there would be no need for Lucius' 'friendly' note. As it was, he could only feel a slight itch on his scar, and he smirked. Malfoy's attempt to manipulate the mark was utterly pathetic. If he himself had wanted to summon the other deatheaters, he would have caused the scar to feel like it was on fire, the throbbing pain spreading rapidly up the arm and the burning agony rushing into the chest would force the deatheaters to urgently apparate into his presence.  
  
Not exactly a bad idea, he mused. He suddenly stood and strode quickly into his bedroom, opening the mahogany doors of his wardrobe. He grimaced as he saw his reflection in the mirror on the inside of the door raise an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Off again?" His mirror image sneered at him, and continued in a hollow voice: "Well, do be sure to enjoy yourself."  
  
His mood became more serious as he watched himself in the mirror fastening his deatheater cloak over his heavy black robes, making no concession to the heat outside. He held the bone-white mask up against his face and his expression hardened.  
  
This was sheer torture, forcing himself into the company of brown-nosing bastards like Malfoy whenever they commanded. But then, Snape thought, he deserved this. He deserved worse. He gripped his wand and apparated.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Snape arrived in an illuminated forest clearing filled with deatheaters. The night was warm, the country in the throes of a heat wave. He retained a strong hold on his wand, but kept it hidden in the folds of his robes as he surveyed his surroundings. A powerful lumos spell had been cast over the area, causing the stars to be blacked out and the sky to change from its usual seasonal deep blue hue to an uneasy copper colour. The deatheaters were huddled in small circles, but all loosely formed a large perimeter around the elite of Voldemort's servants, where Snape recognised Malfoy's supercilious tones. He pushed his way through the lower ranks and strode purposefully towards the center of the clearing.  
  
Malfoy caught sight of Snape almost immediately and rushed to meet him halfway. Both men stopped dead. Lucius straightened his back and tried in vain to appear taller, standing in front of Snape as if to block his view of the other deatheaters. Snape forced a smile beneath his mask and Lucius interpreted his silence as a signal to begin the same tirade that Snape was forced to listen to at every deatheater meeting since Voldemort's return.  
  
".And I must say, Snape, I'm almost surprised to see you here. You rarely show up unless the Dark Lord explicitly orders you to appear-"  
  
Snape hastily interrupted with his own frequently used lines, explaining again how difficult it was becoming to avoid Dumbledore's scrutiny. Both deatheaters took turns to abuse the Headmaster's name, with Lucius introducing several new insults. Snape desperately tried to forget them as soon as they were heard, as Dumbledore took great delight in chiding Snape into revealing any new slurs.  
  
Malfoy continued in the same condescending voice: "Anyway, Snape, I suppose you're wondering why I asked you here tonight- the reason being that as a result of. certain setbacks in the Dark Lord's plans, morale among His faithful servants has been rather low of late. To rectify this, I've been authorised to arrange a series of deatheater meetings, much like those we used to have, where we would strengthen ourselves and our Master, while using, and then disposing of the. lesser inhabitants of the species."  
  
With this statement, Snape immediately felt the bile rise up his throat and forced himself to control the urge to heave. He knew exactly what Malfoy meant - the abduction, rape and murder of any number of muggle women, even the pureblood wives and daughters of any man that dared oppose Voldemort. These kinds of meetings among the deatheaters had been frequent before Voldemort's fall and now, much to Snape's disgust, there looked to be a revival.  
  
Snape wordlessly followed Malfoy to the other deatheaters, who appeared to be surrounding an altar of sorts. As they approached and the other deatheaters moved out of the way, he realised that a young woman was bound to the stone. She was still clothed; her arms were tied at the wrists and stretched above her head, and her legs forced apart with a rope that was magically fused into the stone. Malfoy continued his monologue, complaining that Goyle had been too rough in the capture and woman was damaged.  
  
"Not that there's any point in wasting energy healing her, mind. She'll be dead soon enough, although Snape, you'll have to brew some more of that calming potion for my stocks. She wouldn't stop struggling and we had to give her quite a large dose to keep her quiet."  
  
Another deatheater drew near and Snape heard Narcissa's simpering voice appeal to her husband from beneath her mask. "Isn't she pretty? Lucius, darling, could I go first? I do hate having to go after everyone else has mucked them up."  
  
Snape ignored the Malfoys' bickering and began to subtly examine the woman's appearance. He knew he would need to give an accurate description of her to Dumbledore, so arrangements could be made with her family. She was tanned, of average height and of a slim build. She was young, and had dull brown eyes that she used to stare dazedly up at Snape, then the sky, and then the rope holding her down. Snape found himself disagreeing with Narcissa. The girl could not accurately be described as 'pretty', although she was oddly attractive, in spite of the dried blood on her forehead and the bruises on her neck that marked Goyle's oafishness. She was wearing a dark red shirt with ill-fitting black trousers that fell low on her hips; both articles of clothing were made of some cheap muggle material as was evident by the tears on her sleeves.  
  
Malfoy's wife was now twirling and wrapping the girl's loose locks of long, wavy black hair around her fingers, as Lucius explained in a bored tone exactly why she would have to wait her turn.  
  
".And my dear, you know the ritual won't work unless a man goes first to complete it, which is why I think Severus should have the honour for once."  
  
Snape stiffened. Lucius was obviously testing him, but Snape couldn't see why exactly the deatheater would give up one of his favored privileges for the purpose. Snape tried to find a good reason to decline, but could think of none that wouldn't cause Voldemort to be immediately notified of his behaviour and have his less subtle past actions called in for review.  
  
He continued surveying the woman as before, searching for any distinguishing features that would aid in identification afterwards. She had no scars, moles or birthmarks, at least, none currently visible. He closed his eyes momentarily, groaning inwardly as he realised that he would very soon have plenty of time to also check underneath her clothing, and Snape dreaded the imminent event.  
  
Another sin to confess to Dumbledore, he thought grimly. He caught sight of movement by the girl's neck and reached into her shirt, pulling out a silver pendant that had slipped down over her collarbone. He unclasped the chain and pulled it free, examining the connecting silver disc carefully. The name 'Corinna' was engraved in a flowing script across its diameter, while the other side was blank.  
  
"Keeping souvenirs, Snape?" Hissed Bellatrix, her reddened eyes visible through the eyeholes of her mask. Snape wasted no time in turning to glare at her and she moved away, muttering audible insults under her breath.  
  
Malfoy raised his wand to signal the beginning of the ritual. The other deatheaters fell silent and began to form circles around the altar with Snape closest to the bound woman in the innermost circle. The girl was beginning to grow aware of her predicament as the potion wore off and she was now struggling against the ropes. She looked directly at Snape, her fear darkening her eyes.  
  
As one, the deatheaters aimed their wands at the girl and began to chant in unison. Snape stared back at the girl, pitying and envying her in equal measures for her imminent death. With the others, Snape repeated the spell over and over again, growing steadily louder as the pace increased. He alone watched her eyes as the fear was slowly replaced by an angry determination.  
  
He could feel the energy flowing through his wand and he blinked, jerking his arm away. He heard the dry crackling of the ground at his feet over the monotonous drone of the others, and looked down to see the sparks fly between the blades of grass. He leapt back, breaking the circle as the parched grass surrounding the altar ignited into flames that rushed outwards in tangled lines, causing the deatheaters to scatter. Snape calmly strode to a patch of earth devoid of any foliage and watched the panic spread among the others. A stupid few retreated in amongst the trees to escape the blaze, while others whose robes had caught fire ran around shrieking like banshees.  
  
Snape waited until a fuming Malfoy grabbed his hysterical wife and used his wand to spray her with water before the pair disapparated, leaving Snape to murmur a protective charm and walk unnoticed through the flames towards the altar. Snape smirked as he stepped over a de-masked Goyle who was rolling on the burning ground in his pathetic attempt to put out his cloak, but on seeing the bare stone altar the smirk instantly vanished as he realised the girl was gone. He spun around, his eyes searching furiously for her - none of the others had approached the altar, he would have noticed. He caught a glimpse of red moving fast through the trees and he set off after her; she had been injured previously and was now likely suffering from burns, as well as having been physically weakened by the ritual.  
  
Snape advanced silently and speedily through the trees - he would take her to Hogwarts for treatment, Dumbledore would need to alter her memory. He heard a twig snap a few metres ahead and he paused, keeping his wand held tightly in his fist as his eyes scanned for movement in the dark. 


End file.
